


A Hand in the Bush

by vestam



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bushfire, Campfire, Other, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3179642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vestam/pseuds/vestam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper gets off with some help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hand in the Bush

Perhaps he was a bit sick. His father certainly thought so. It just seemed unreasonable to be trapped up in the dusty old rafters for hours on end without nary a sign of the enemy and without any sort of entertainment. No one to keep him company - not that he really found many of his teammates much for company, mind. It would have been a proper distraction from the boredom and this  _urge_. He did his best to ignore it. He thought in great detail about the geezers his father would meet up with by the billabong, all their shriveled saggy bits on display after a dip in the water. He imagined his great-aunt Margie in that ridiculously low-cut top she wore at every family gathering well throughout her seventies. Nothing quelled the growing desire. It was embarrassing. He was a professional. He had standards. What would he do if that sneaky BLU snake caught him with his pants down and pecker in hand - actually that thought only spurred him on.

He fumbled with his zipper for a moment, briefly contemplating the risks. As he yanked down his pants and pulled his briefs down past his ass, he decided the reward was far greater. He let out a sigh as he took his shaft in hand. Just a quickie, he thought, palm working up and down. His eyes screwed shut as he tried to remember his last sexual encounter. It had been a woman, he was certain of that. Years ago now and he could barely recall her face. Caught up in his memories, he didn't even notice the other presence in the room until he felt a hand on his leg. He jumped, instinctively reaching for his kukri, when he noticed it was Pyro squatting down to his left, the dark lenses of their mask focused intently on him.

"Um." What could he say, _Sorry, I'm a bloody pervert?_ He scrambled to find something, anything to say to his teammate. He was completely caught off-guard when Pyro reached forward with one gloved hand and matter of factly touched the head of his penis. Sniper felt his breath hitch, certain his head would pop off or explode any moment now. His cheeks flushed a bright crimson. "You don't have to-"

Pyro tilted their head to the right, before taking what they obviously felt was an invitation to scoot up closer into Sniper's private space. They pressed a hand against his leg and Sniper spread a little further. Pyro once again reached down, but this time went lower, cupping his testicles. Sniper tensed at their grip.

"Oi. Gentle now. I'm not some cadaver for you to pick and prod at, yeah."

Pyro said something that came out like a coo, which seemed to be directed at his balls, and let go. They pulled back and Sniper worried they were leaving altogether. To his surprise, Pyro pulled at the tip of one gloved finger, slowly working the glove off. What came out was a hand, a human hand, nothing scaly or slimy - perhaps he'd been reading too many of Scout's comics. It was, however, a very nice hand, with long sturdy fingers and a broad palm. The glove was discarded and the hand reached forward, once again cupping him, but this time quite gently. The fondling was enjoyable, but not enough. He was pleased when Pyro's free hand, still gloved, found its way to the base of his member. Sniper laid back as the hands worked in unison. He moaned appreciatively as they brought him close before immediately slowing down, letting it build all over again. It wasn't until a finger slipped past his balls, stroking the skin just behind them, that he came, loud and messy all over Pyro's suit.

"Sorry, would've warned you," Sniper said, after a few moments of panting on the floor.

Pyro shook their head, muttering something in a happy tone, as they returned the glove to their hand. It took Sniper a bit longer to sit up and pull his pants back on, with Pyro watching in great interest. He found a handkerchief in his back pocket, a little white square he'd knitted some months before, and handed it to Pyro. They took it with a curious tilt of their head before wiping down their arm, still covered in spunk. In the distance, the horn signaling the day's stalemate blasted over the speakers. Sniper coughed into his hand, clearing his throat. He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking at Pyro, who simply stared back.

Unsure what else to say to the person who'd just got him off, Sniper mumbled, "You want to grab some dinner at the mess?"


End file.
